THANK YOU Pearl for emailing this little treasure to me! It's hilarious!

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Bloody brilliant! Hahahahaha!!

I am: "perfectly imperfect"

I think: these questions are harder than they look.

I know: I just put too much salt on my fried chicken.

I want: to have put less salt on my fried chicken!

I have: more aching, painful joints with each passing day. This does not please me.

I wish: for way too many things to list just one!

I hate: the bitching and whining that goes on constantly at work, from some of the nurses aides. If you don't like it, then bugger off and go stack shelves in WalMart. The atmosphere is NOT good for the poor old sods who have to LIVE here and hear it every day, and after all, they're the people you're supposed to be THERE FOR. So FFS STFU and concentrate on making them smile. It's the very LEAST you can do.

I miss: Ward 6A, Royal Liverpool University Hospital, Prescot Street, Liverpool, UK.

I fear: what my body has in store for me as I age.

I feel: satisfied.

I hear: the fan, blowing warm air around the camper van. One of the nicest sounds I know.

I smell: fresh-baked sweet potato bread. I wish there was scratch 'n' sniff internet so you could smell it too... it's heavenly.

I crave: nothing, right this minute.

I search: for visually interesting objects. (No need for me to change that one Bill... it's perfect! Photographers to the core.

I wonder: if it's going to be a not so harsh winter this year?

I regret: not having been a better daughter to my mum. I was a brat.

I love: isn't there a limit to the amount of characters you can use in a blog?

I ache: all bloody over. Ugh.

I care: too much for my own good at times.

I always: enjoy the simple pleasures best.

I am not: going to put too much salt on my fried chicken again next time.

I believe: I'm a decent, honest person.

I sing: aloud to the songs on my MP3 player whenever I have it on, no matter where I am.

I dance: rarely and atrociously.

I cry: if I get too drunk, sometimes.

I don't always: keep in touch with friends as often as I should, or would like to.

I fight: hardly ever..

I write: less than I used to, and that saddens me.

I never: use superlatives meaninglessly. (Hahahaha Bill! )

I listen: properly.

I need: a glass of water.

I am happy: to be alive.

 

 

 

And I wanted to share this with you. She's been writing a story for the last couple of years, adding bits here and there when time allows. It's based on a Princess in medieval times, and how she hates the entrapment of her position and the falseness of courtly life. Her name is Elana, and this is a poem she wrote for her English lesson...

Enjoy.

 

1) I love Zippo lighters. I must have a Zippo lighter. But not just any Zippo - I must have MY Zippo lighter.

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Shane's Grandfather bought the tree farm back in the 1960s, as an Anniversary present for his wife, Leora. It was called "Anniversary Acres", and the old sign of that name hung over the entrance to the property's long driveway until very recently. It was, by that time, very old, battered, and barely legible.

The photo is of the original farmhouse, taken in May this year. Shane can remember it from his childhood as a proper two-storey building, albeit already decrepit and not safe to walk up the stairs to the second floor for fear of it, or the floor itself, giving way. All that's left now is a huge sandstone block four-walled pit, with weeds and brambles all over and a tree growing out of the original fireplace. I'm quite fond of it.

Much of the sandstone has been dragged back here to the camper with my hero, the Massey Ferguson tractor, to form the "housing" for our heating system Shane put together. It surrounds a 55 gallon tank of water kept constantly heated and which circulates via in-and-out pipes through our camper, with a fan blowing the resulting heat around. It's actually very clever, and I admire Shane for his knowledge in how these things work, and can be built with "to hand" equipment.

As some of you know, the camper we live in has no working internal plumbing. The heating system has, for the last three years, been heavily dependent on a 24/7, totally free, natural gas flame - the gas being a by-product of an oil well on the tree farm which Shane has piped from the well to the camper. But for the last few months we've lost the gas - the guy who services the oil well thinks that the back pressure caused by piping the gas up here is adversely affecting the oil production, and has "fixed" things so the gas is no longer available. Shane - who is definitely no slouch when it comes to understanding all this stuff - disagrees. But hey-ho... that decision isn't his to make.

Z Man (tapewormz) recently asked why we don't just move into the "Maple Trailer", an unused, unlived in trailer which DOES have plumbing, and propane heating, and would certainly be much more comfortable and easy to live in.

The Maple is the trailer which his grandparents originally lived in when they moved here in the 60s. At the time it was the only trailer on the property. They had all sorts of plans - a shelter house was built just next to it, and they foresaw a long future with family and friends.

But sadly, Leora died of cancer, I think it wasn't too long after they'd moved here. Very sad...

Shane's Grandfather lost heart altogether, and what was planned to be a home for generations to come died too.

When I moved here in Fall 2008, Shane's parents had just sold their own home and moved here to the Tree Farm themselves, a couple of months or so earlier. In the interim years, a couple of other trailers had been added to the property. They moved into the "Dogwood". The Maple, when I first moved here, was piled to the roof with packing boxes from his folks' old place... clothing, yarn, books - you name it. It was basically a storage facility. The ONLY room fit for use was the bathroom, which Shane and I have been using as our own since I came out here.

Shane's parents had plans to build themselves a new home on the property, up by the barn, where there are gorgeous views of the pine trees and a huge lawn area. But... local laws state that only three septic systems for plumbing are allowed, without sub-dividing the property totally. So Shane's parents' plans basically are never going to come to fruition... the property already has three homes with septics - the Maple, the Dogwood where they now live, and a third trailer which has been rented by Roger for several years.

Over the last three years, Shane's Mom has done a sterling job of gradually sorting through all her "stuff" collected over many years. Much of it is now stored in the barn, and the Maple trailer "looks" perfectly livable - you can actually MOVE in it, lol! It's a "proper" home. But - much of Mom's stuff is still stored there. Because their plans of building a NEW home never happened, the Maple is a sort of "spilling over" place for all the things they don't have room for at their own trailer, the Dogwood. Pops has built umpteen bookcases for all Mom's books - and she has HUNDREDS! Cookery, religion, self-sufficiency, world history... omigod. And clothing, etc etc.

I asked Mom one time, "why didn't you and Pops move into the Maple Trailer when you came here?" She sort of tilted her head to one side and said "Memories. This was his (Shane's dad's) parents' place, not ours... we wanted to make our own memories". And I totally agree with that.

So, in answer to Z Man... the Maple Trailer isn't "ours" to move into. It's his folks' extra storage space after they found out they couldn't build the home they wanted. Mom spends a lot of time there, with her books etc...

Although Mom and Pops are happy for us to use the bathroom, and the kitchen etc... the Maple isn't a place for us to live in. And we both agree with that. It's interim... and was only ever meant to be such.

I adore the Tree Farm. The last three years have been a total eye-opener for me. I'm a city girl. I lived in Liverpool for over 20 years and you don't get much more "city" than that. Now, I've learned the awesomeness of weather. I totally respect it. Ice storms, three-foot snow storms...

For three years I've grown a garden - well, the first two years before I got my Green Card and started working, anyway. This year the garden has been Shane's baby. And by "garden", I don't mean flowers and shrubs like back in England - out here in the US, a "garden" means vegetables, potatoes, herbs... I feel like an old-hand now, lol!

I've tapped Maple trees and collected GALLONS of sap to boil down into the most DELICIOUS, natural, maple syrup.

I've grown to love the peace, and solitude, and calm that living in a 70-acre space provides. 70 acres!! No people... just the local deer, and racoons, and birds... HUNDREDS of birds... I still shake my head in wonder at the difference between this and my old city life sometimes...

It's getting time to move on though. The camper we live in, with NO septic system, has been deteriorating before our eyes over the last three years. There are spiders' webs between the glass and the inside screens, full of "bits" of stuff... Shane says it's were the bugs are literally eating away at the wooden surrounds of the windows. It's all a noticeable difference since I moved here three years ago. And now, we've lost the gas supply which is basically a fundamental requirement to keep the place heated when the weather starts to get really cold. For now, splitting wood for the fire is sufficient - but once winter hits - it won't be enough.

We need to move. And as much as I love the atmosphere there at the Maple ("family") Trailer- especially when Shane's daughter comes to visit with her friend Ally, and we can spend a "family" day cooking spaghetti sauce from our multitudes of tomatoes from the garden and chilling out in space and comfort... it's not "ours" to have.

Nor do I want it to be. Just as Shane's Mom said... I want to make our own memories.

Going in to give Richard - the bane of my life - his meds tonight and finding him watching a country music channel on the telly. We sat for five minutes together singing along to this song, and I ended up spending nearly half an hour in there with him, chatting about music, trucking (he was a trucker for donkey's years), life and the universe. A good time.

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The chances and opportunities I've been given, and taken.

Potatoes, bread, coffee, wine, and dollar-a-box cheese crackers.

The simplicity of life in the country.

The wonderful podiatrist who sees to our residents once a month, who made me cry last week but fixed my ingrowing big toenail, for free.

Having a job that not only pays a good wage, but I love doing. The rewards, despite the regular frustrations, are awesome.

Days off work.

Shane, who has patiently and quietly helped me adapt to this basic life over the last three years, but who, with the same patience and quietness, has understood I don't want it any more in the harshness of Midwest winters. During all my rants and frustrations, I don't recalling him ever once raising his voice back at me.

Vivitar 8325s.

The internet - surely the greatest invention since the wheel.

Being able to read. Books transport me totally out of myself, often at times I need it most. I would LOVE to teach someone else to read.

Feria hair colour, so I may never go grey. The only cosmetic part of growing older I refuse to give in to.

Lighter fluid. Not just for my Zippo, but for cleaning pine sap off my hands after also using it to start fires.

Fluffy warm blankets.

Goodwill Stores.

My relative good health, despite the intentional and unintentional abuses I put my body through.

Junior. Possibly my favourite of all the cats who've ever owned me.

Discovering I can access live streaming of TalkSPORT radio, my favourite station in the UK, online here. Even if they did fire James Whale.

Life.

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